While In The Army
by mssmithlove
Summary: John has just begun his Army career when he may accidentally get too drunk on an evening out. Who will help him back to his room?
1. Chapter 1

****I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it. Okay so this is a one-shot that came into my twisted brain today and decided it needed to be written. Basically, John has just started his Army career, when he gets a bit too drunk. Young John! And I'm certain you can figure out who the other man is. Cheers!****

John was sure his eyes were doing slow somersaults. Almost positive. Or maybe they were just doing a little shimmy. Just shaking away like he had been on the dance floor earlier. Oh the _dancing he'd done_. Was there even a dance floor? Maybe it was just a loud bar? Hm. Odd.

No matter. Point was he was an excellent dancer. And now his eyes were just following suite. It was fine that he couldn't see a damn thing. Shake away you blue bad-boys. He closed his eyelids to assist with the spins his eyeballs were currently engaging in. They were clearly going to be busy for a while. Maybe he should just lay down. Sleep sounded so wonderful now. Yes, sleep is what he will do-

"What is the meaning of this, Cadet?"

Angry, loud voice. No good for sleeping.

"Shh," John murmured, placing a finger to his lips.

"Are you aware you're currently outside, Cadet?"

John rolled over and tucked his arms under his head. "Quiet now." Wow this ground is rather soft. Maybe he should just…

"Answer me, Cadet!"

John shook his head. Why was this voice yelling at him? "Shh," John whispered again. "It's night night time."

"Get back to your room. Now."

Mm that voice was so lovely. It was nicer now too. Not so angry. "You have a nice voice."

"Can you walk on your own?"

"I can sleep on my own. Right here."

"No."

Oh. "Do you want to snuggle? I'm a great snuggler." John lifted his arm. "Come snuggle with me." He heard a low deep chuckle. "Mm, do that again please." He couldn't be sure if he said that out loud. Suddenly, the world was righting itself, and John's stomach lurched. He must be floating. "Mmmm," he hummed.

"You are very drunk."

John smiled, still unable to open his eyes. Was he walking? No… his feet were dragging but… oh. "Are you carrying me?"

"I'm trying to and you're certainly not helping."

"You're voice is sexy." John wanted to make sure this helpful person knew that.

"Thank you. If you wouldn't mind moving your feet properly, we can get back to your room."

John's eyes fluttered a bit, feeling a renewed sense of excitement. "Mm, yes, come back to mine. I'd like to hear what that voice sounds like in my bed." He was sure he sounded smooth and seductive. He was good at this sort of thing. Knew all the right ways to-

"Oh for God's sake, stop grabbing my belt."

John frowned. "Why? Aren't we back to my room?"

"No, we're not, and we won't be doing that when we get there either."

John pouted, sticking his bottom lip out as far as he could. "Why not? You'll like it, I promise. I'm really good." John heard an annoyed huff and pouted even more. "Please? I'll make it so good for you," he crooned, knowing for sure he sounded super sexy.

"You don't even know my name."

John thought about that for a moment. "Oh. What's your name?"

"You've also kept your eyes closed since the moment we met so you don't know what I look like either."

John's eyelids tried to fly open, but his eyes were still dancing. He closed one lid, narrowing his open eye at the ground to focus it and to see… oh, apparently this helpful stranger was holding his waist rather snuggly. He lulled his head back to look at the man he…ah, had his arm slung around his neck.

Dark curls covered his face as he turned his head. Mm. So soft. He nuzzled his nose into the curls.

"Really?" A deep grumble came from below those curls and John hummed.

"Mm, you smell nice."

"And you smell like whiskey."

John grinned happily. "I love whiskey."

"Apparently."

The curly head rose up slowly and grey eyes caught John's only open one. "Woah." John leaned forward, wanting to be as close as possible to this gorgeous person. "You're pretty." Those eyes were like magnets and he didn't want to look away.

The man smiled, but kept trying to drag John along. "Thank you. Now can we continue the walk?"

John reached for his belt again. "No, no, let's do it here. Right now."

A hand easily grasped his wrist. "Stop that."

"Bossy," John giggled. "Okay, you take the lead, gorgeous."

"John?"

Ooh, a new voice! Familiar too. Should know him… Maybe? Dunno.

"Christ, what happened?"

"Apparently, your friend was unable to make it home from the bar on his own. He tried to use the outside of my barracks as a bed."

"Jesus, John, what the hell mate?"

John shrugged. "It was comfortable."

"Here, I'll take him."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"Of course. Sorry sir, thank you."

John pouted as he was shifted from one body to the next. "Boo. I was going to do such naughty things to you."

"Oh my… sorry sir, really, so sorry on his behalf. I've got him from here."

"I hope that you do. Evening, gentlemen."

"Bye-bye pretty eyes!" John waived in the direction he heard footsteps. Oh shit, when had he closed his eyes again?

"Shit mate, do you have any idea what you've just done?"

John leaned against the new strong surface holding him up. "Why did he leave? He was handsome."

"Christ, do you even know who that was?"

John frowned. "No. Who?"

****I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it. Alright, this is such a random one-shot I created but now I'm thinking… should I continue it? I can't decide. Feedback is more then appreciated!****


	2. Chapter 2

****Okay, so I decided to continue this. But I need to confess something right now: I know absolutely nothing about the Army. So, while I am doing my best to do research, I am bound to write something that is entirely inaccurate. That being said, please bear with me if I royally fuck something up. For the story's sake, please be kind. And do enjoy!****

"Someone kill me. Please, just put me out of my misery and shoot me right now." John's head lulled back on his pillow as he threw his arm over his eyes.

"Good to know you want to die because after last night, they're going to murder you," Bill laughed as he tucked in his shirt.

John turned over and looked at his bunkmate. "What?"

"Seriously mate? You were hitting on one of the most respected and highly ranked men on this base. You're so fucked," Bill smirked.

"Who was it?"

"Get your arse up and you'll find out."

Fucking hell. John's head pounded but he crawled out and dressed quickly.

Morning drills should help with the headache. John always counted on the sweating to kick his hangover.

After morning checks, he realized he wouldn't be so lucky.

"Cadet Watson," one of his superiors barked at him. John stood at attention.

"Sir," he replied.

"You've been requested for a private meeting with Major Holmes."

John gulped. "Sir?"

"Lieutenant Moran will escort you. Now, Cadet."

"Yes sir." The respectable response was almost second-nature now. He thanked his short military training thus far for being able to keep his voice from wavering. Especially when a cold sweat was forming at the base of his neck.

He chose not to look at Bill, who was no doubt smirking.

He followed Lieutenant Moran to the offices on the other side of the base, silently as he'd been taught, curiosity and fear rising within him.

As they approached the end of the hall, Moran turned to him. "I don't know what the hell you did, Cadet Watson, but you pissed off the wrong guy. Good luck."

He knocked twice on the door and a low, unfortunately familiar rumble replied "Enter."

John had to remember to breath. The door swung open and Major Holmes sat on the other end of the office behind a large mahogany desk. "Ah, excellent. Cadet Watson, please enter. Lieutenant Moran, you are dismissed."

Moran soluted, gave John an arched eyebrow'd smirk and exited.

John stood at attention, praying his trembling body would hold itself up. No wonder he'd hit on this guy last night. He was bloody gorgeous. All tall and lanky with ridiculously dark curls and shimmering gray eyes. John wondered why he didn't have a military haircut. And how the hell was this guy a Major? He couldn't be older then 25.

John did his best not to look over the tall body in front of him and instead stared into the wall behind his head.

"At ease, Cadet," Major Holmes said offhandedly. John fell into parade rest immediately, silently thanking him for the small kindness. Some officers liked to keep them at attention for as long as possible. Especially when they were in trouble.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Fine, sir, thank you."

"Really? You looked worse for wear last night."

John's face flamed. "I'm fine sir, thank you for asking."

"Permission to speak freely, Watson," Holmes said.

"Sir?" John asked. He'd never been allowed to speak freely. Especially not to such a high ranking officer.

"Permission. To speak. Freely," Holmes said slowly. John's eyes flashed to him for only a moment, only to find a smirk on his face.

"I feel like an idiot, Sir," John replied quietly, staring into the wall. Holmes laughed, and John almost stepped back out of pure surprise. "Sir?"

"Oh would you stop with the 'Sir' thing, it's annoying."

John raised his eyebrows. "What?" he asked without thinking. Who the hell was this guy?

Holmes smirked. "Better. Now, tell me Watson, how long have you been on base?"

John blinked, trying to keep up with the conversation. "Um... a month, sir."

"No more using the word sir for the duration of this conversation. That's an order, Cadet."

John's eyes widened. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that you always referred to your superior officers as 'Sir.' He nodded, terrified if he spoke it may slip out again.

Holmes nodded back. "So you've been here a month. How do you like it so far?"

John cocked his head. Was that all there was to this meeting? Just a friendly check-in? Wasn't that for his direct superior to do with him, not a Major of all people? "Uh-Fine."

"Making friends?"

"Yes Si- Yes."

"And was last night an example of how you make friends?"

John blushed madly. "No no, S-no. I apologize for my behavior last night. It was inappropriate and I promise it won't happen again."

Holmes' lips twitched. "Oh that's quite alright. In a span of ten minutes, you became the most interesting person on this base."

John frowned. "What does that mean S-?"

"Exactly what I said."

John shifted uncomfortably. "Si- Major Holmes, I am very sorry if I offended you and if you plan to hand down a punishment, I will accept and get back to morning drills."

"Do you really think I'm a Major, Cadet Watson?"

John's eyes flashed over his momentarily then looked away. "Of course."

Holmes snorted. "Haven't we established you may speak freely here?"

John stole another glance, this time holding that penetrating gaze and slowly nodded. "Yes."

Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Go on then. Do you really believe that I am a Major?"

John let out a long suffering sigh. This was starting to feel like a cruel and unusual punishment.

"Yes, I really believe you are a Major, I was simply surprised due to your looks. You look much younger than most Majors."

Holmes was grinning. "Come now, Watson. You don't really believe it for a minute."

John sighed again. "Does it really matter what I think?"

Holmes frowned. "Of course. I can't have you blowing my cover while you're assisting me."

"What?"

"Please," Holmes waived his hand dismissively. "No one would believe you any way, all of the paperwork is in in place. I simply don't have time to worry about you getting in the way."

"The way of what?"

"My investigation of course."

John's body grew cold. "What investigation?"

Holmes' eyes ran over him. "Oh due relax, it has nothing to do with you. The ring started long before you arrived."

John felt sweat forming on his brow.

"The ring?"

Holmes snorted. "Never you mind that. I have been keeping an eye out for a suitable Cadet for help. Lucky for me, you tried to sleep on my doorstep last night, so here we are."

John's head was spinning. "Can you try explaining that again S-Major Holmes?"

Holmes rolled his eyes. "How about you just refer to me as Sherlock? Not outside of this room, of course, but when we meet."

John felt his body stiffen. There was going to be more of these conversations? With an extremely attractive Major who seemed to want to only hand out partial information?

"I'll make it an even playing field and refer to you as John. Deal?" Holmes was continuing.

"What do you need a Cadet for?" John asked weakly, hoping maybe he could find a way out of this.

Sherlock's eyes brightened. "It's rather simple. I need you to keep your ear to the ground. Anything unusual, anything at all, you'll report it to me. I can't very well be seen in the Cadet's barracks and most of them are complete idiots. So you'll have to do."

"Am I also an idiot?" John asked without thinking but this conversation was getting out of control.

"I should hope not," Sherlock laughed. "You're a doctor, aren't you?"

"Technically yes, but I won't officially be-"

"Yes, yes, I am aware of how long it will take for you to officially be an Army Doctor. No matter. Medical school isn't easy. I applaud your efforts."

John shook his head at the turn in the conversation and tried to get back on track. "So you want me to... to spy on my friends?"

Sherlock laughed again. "No John, I don't want you to spy on your_ friends_. Trust me, there are very few Cadets who are as interested in making friends as they are in rising in the ranks quickly."

John couldn't help the words of the application he'd filled out so many years ago flashing in his mind. _Life-long friendships. Teamwork. Comradery._

"You've really taken that to heart have you, all that Queen and Country bullocks? Excellent. It will make you even less of a threat. A little doctor like you? Those other boys will take to you easily."

John gaped at him. "Sir, I don't think-"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"_Sherlock_," John said exaggeratedly. "I don't think this is a good idea. I don't think I'll be much help and I don't love the idea of having an ulterior motive for getting to know my mates."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm your superior officer," Sherlock said almost exaggeratedly. "You don't have much of a choice. We'll have a standard weekly meeting unless you hear something important beforehand, in which case you will wear your dog tags on the outside of your shirt."

John frowned. "How is that any type of a signal? What if you don't see me?"

"I'll see you."

The implication of that statement made John shiver. With excitement or fear, he couldn't be sure.

"Won't people notice that I'm coming to your office once a week? Won't that be suspicious?"

Sherlock smiled genuinely at him. "Very good, John. I knew you'd be thinking ahead. But don't worry about that."

John raised his eyebrows. "Don't you have to keep a log of our meetings?"

"I'm not much for keeping records."

"You're not much for formality either, are you?"

Sherlock grinned. "Not in the slightest."

"Won't my absence be noticed?"

"Not if we're discreet."

"Oh like this morning when you excused me from morning drills?" John immediately bit his lip. Even with the pretense of speaking freely, he knew better then to be sarcastic to a superior officer.

But Sherlock laughed. "No, this morning needed to look like I were punishing you for last night. Enough people saw you drunkenly groping me. It would be suspicious if you didn't get some sort of reprimand."

John's cheeks burned. "What is my punishment?"

"This conversation."

John pursed his lips trying not to laugh. "Fair enough. Okay, so what am I to do for your…umm…investigation?"

Sherlock arched an eyebrow. "Gain trust. Get the others to believe you are harmless and well-meaning and a good friend. Get them drunk, for all I care. Just get them talking. When they aren't speaking directly to you, listen very carefully during meal times and locker room conversations. Anything may be significant. Anything unusual, even if very small, you must report to me. Understood?"

John resisted the urge to fidget. Truthfully, he didn't know how to feel about this but that small element of danger… yeah that was interesting. He glanced up to see Sherlock grinning at him knowingly and John looked away.

"Alright, so I've just become an informant for you, apparently. Anything else, _Sherlock_?"

Sherlock smirked. "That'll be all, _John_."

"When will our next meeting be?"

"I'll get the information to you."

That sounded rather ominous but John just nodded. "Alright. See you soon, I suppose."

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. Off you go to drills, then. I believe you're rather late."

****I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it. I have big plans for this story because your comments were so awesome! Thank you!***


	3. Chapter 3

****I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it. So… I may have discovered a kink for Drunk John. I PROMISE this story will have some sort of plot… but I also promise this story will have a shit done of Drunk John.** **

"John."

"Hello goooorgeous!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I see you attempted to follow my directions."

John scoffed, positively insulted. He had done exactly what Sherlock said! No attempting, he _did _it. Two weeks and three meetings after that first morning, he'd had no further information, so Sherlock had told him to go out and get everyone drunk. John was a part of everyone. John had followed directions perfectly. He glared. Then the room tilted and he grabbed the door frame to hold himself up. Oops. "I did-I did everything you told me to." He nodded in affirmation.

Sherlock cocked his head. "And how drunk did we get in the process, my dear Doctor Watson?"

John giggled and held up his thumb and forefinger, closing one eye. "Only a bit."

Sherlock laughed and shook his head.

John grinned. "You're pretty when you laugh." He thought back over that then realized: "Actually, you're pretty all the time. So pretty. Your eyes are all pretty and your hair. That hair! Mm. Pretty pretty pretty."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, John. I am fully aware of how you feel about my looks."

"And your voice!" John reminded him. Had he really thought John didn't love his voice? Because he did. Oh, he did. "That voice. So deep, I feel it like-" John pressed a finger to his chest. "Here. Right here."

The look on Sherlock's face was really hard to read when there was two of him. "John, I think you need to get back to your room."

John shook his head. "No, no, not yet. We never hang out, Sherlock. Just you and me. We never like, ya know-" John lost track of his thoughts as he stared at Sherlock's shimmering grey eyes. Those pretty eyes. He'd had dirty dreams about those eyes.

"We never…" Sherlock prompted, waiving his hand at him to continue.

John furrowed his brow, confused. "We never what?"

"Oh for God's sake, really I think it's time for you to get back to your room and go to sleep."

"Don't be mad," John pouted as he stepped toward Sherlock. "I like you."

"I'm not mad, John, I just think you'd better go back to your room. You're very drunk and I don't want you doing anything you may regret."

John furrowed his brow. What would he regret? "But I wanted to see you. I like looking at you." He just wanted to tell Sherlock the truth. How could he regret the truth? It was the right thing to do. Always tell the truth.

"Alright, well did you hear anything tonight at least? Before you got inebriated?"

John shook his head. "I'm not in-e-ine-braided."

"Yes you are."

John giggled. "You're so smart, Sherlock. So so smart. Brilliant even. Like super, extra brilliant."

Sherlock let out a long suffering sigh. "Who all was with you tonight, John?"

"Umm..." God it was hard to think when looking at that beautiful face. "It was... Bill...and Jamie... And Andrew... And Frank... And John...And-wait." John burst into more giggles. "Me. John is me. I'm John!"

Sherlock scrubbed a hand down his face. "Alright, well clearly you didn't get any information for me."

John pouted. "I'm sorry but don't be-mad okay? Don't be mad at m-me. Your eyes get all-" he spun a finger at Sherlock's face, "all serious when you're mad and it's too sexy. I can't take it." John giggled again. "It makes me feel all... wobbly." Mm and warm inside. So warm. Angry Sherlock was hot as fuck. Did he tell Sherlock that? He should. "You're hot as fuck when you're angry. How are you at angry sex? Amazing, I bet."

"Christ, John, seriously, you need to go to bed."

John grinned. "Okay. I'll go to bed right there." He pointed at the bed behind Sherlock. "And you, Mr. Gorgeous, are coming with."

Sherlock was quiet for a long moment and then with conviction said "No."

"Come on," John wined. "I'm a fantastic shag and I can't stop thinking about you n-naked." He hiccupped on the last word and giggled. The word naked was silly. He liked it. "Naked," he said again and laughed, tossing his head back.

Bad plan.

World spinning.

John clutched a hand to his head. "Ow."

"Yes, I can only assume that didn't feel the best," Sherlock murmured. "You need to go back to your room, John. Now."

John frowned. "Why don't you like me? I like you. I'm-I'm trying to do all the things you want. How many m-meetings have we had?"

"Three," Sherlock replied with a sigh.

John threw his hands up, exasperated. "Three! That's like... like three dates! We're basically dating. Third dates mean sexy times." He nodded once sure he made his point convincing.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John, you are killing me. Go to bed."

John's eyes were dancing again. Which was odd seeing as he hadn't danced at all tonight. Because Sherlock hadn't been there. And he wanted to dance with Sherlock.

"I wanted to dance with you," John said, tripping as he took a step forward. Sherlock caught him by the waist. "You're so strong," John cooed, nuzzling his face into Sherlock's neck. "Mm, my strong Sherlock."

"John," Sherlock murmured above him and John pressed a kiss to his neck. He was sure he'd like that.

"You're so warm and cozy," John continued, deciding what his next move was going to be. Should he kiss his ear? Maybe put his hand on his chest? Or his belt? John couldn't decide. So many choices! He groped his hands around Sherlock's body, realizing how hard it was to do this when his eyes were closed.

"Alright John, you can sleep here but please, for the love of God, will you shut up and stop grabbing at me?"

Mm that sounded promising. He could let Sherlock take charge, no problem. He tried to open his eyes, waiting for Sherlock to take him. He felt strong hands on him and he groaned. Sherlock told him not to speak and he knew how to follow orders, but he wasn't so sure he could keep all the noises he wanted to make at bay. He would try though. For Sherlock. Because gorgeous Sherlock asked.

He was being guided and he let it happen. Gorgeous Sherlock was going to shag him. Hooray! He'd been dreaming about this! Every meeting they had was physical torture. Not to stare, to lean in, to touch, to taste, to bloody _do_. And now it was happening. John couldn't have been prouder of himself for finally, _finally_ seducing Major Sherlock Holmes. Good on you, John. Well done.

He hoped he wasn't smiling too widely as he was enveloped by softness on his back. Sherlock was laying him down in bed. John wanted to cheer with excitement.

A soft moan was heard in the room and he couldn't decide if it was from him or Sherlock but it was delicious. He giggled. "You're so warm," he said again, trying to whisper, hoping it sounded as sexy as it did in his head, and hoping if he spoke softly Sherlock would be okay with him speaking.

The bed was so cozy and nice and he tried to wrap himself up in it. He waited to feel Sherlock near him, preferably on top of him. When nothing happened, he tried to move again, finding it increasingly difficult. Why did his limbs feel so heavy? Why couldn't he open his eyes?

"Okay," he garbled. "Y-you're gunna have to do all the work."

"Sleep, John." That voice sounded so far away and John tried to shake his head.

"No, no, I'm ready." Those words didn't sound right out loud. They didn't sound like words at all. They sounded like a groan. Was that him? Oh no.

He tried to argue. He tried to fight back through to consciousness. He tried to move his body and open his eyes and pay attention. He didn't want to miss out on sex with Sherlock!

The last thing he heard before the darkness enveloped him entirely was the quiet click of a door closing and he knew, without a doubt, that he was alone.

****I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it. So… I may have discovered a kink for Drunk John. I PROMISE this story will have some sort of plot… but I also promise this story will have a shit done of Drunk John.** **


	4. Chapter 4

****I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it.****

He'd been dreaming about his voice. His deep, sultry voice was haunting his goddamn dreams.

"Watson!"

John spun around and stood at attention. "Sir yes sir!"

"You've been requested for a visit in Major Holmes' office. Lieutenant Moran will escort you."

Ah, just like old times.

"Yes sir," he responded instead. Moran sneered at him then turned and John followed.

They rounded the corner down the all too familiar corridor now, before John felt a firm hand on his bicep and a forearm over his chest. He couldn't stifle the _oomph_ he stupidly let out, as he was pinned to the wall.

"What is your connection with Sherlock Holmes?" Moran spat all too close to his face.

John's body flooded with panic. "Sir?" he asked weakly.

Moran shoved him against the wall again. "Don't fuck with me, Cadet. What are you doing in there with him all the time? Why are you being favored by one of the highest ranked men on this base?"

John's eyes widened, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. "No, no, we're-"

"Lieutenant!"

Oh thank Christ.

Maybe.

Oh shit.

Sherlock strolled up the corridor, glaring daggers at Moran. "What exactly do you think you're doing with our young Dr. Watson?"

Moran immediately dropped his hold and stood at attention. John struggled to do the same as he caught his breath. Neither spoke as Major Holmes stared down Moran.

"I asked you a question, Leutienant," he spoke softly, with an extreme intensity that made John shiver.

"Just a misunderstanding, sir. Won't happen again. My apologies."

"You may want to apologize to Cadet Watson," Sherlock said coldly.

Moran shifted, paused for a moment and then turned to John. "I apologize, Cadet," he said hoarsely.

Sherlock gave him a sickening, almost evil smile. "Very good. Off you go then. Dismissed."

Moran didn't need to be told twice. "Thank you sir," could barely be heard as he took off back the way they'd come.

Sherlock's cold stare turned on John and he froze. "I-"

"Not here," Sherlock practically spat, grabbing John by the arm and dragging him down to the Major's office.

The door slammed behind them as Sherlock all but threw John into the small room.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock bit out, searching over John's face, his chest, his arms for any injuries.

The attention was too nice. Too intense. John had to look away. "I'm fine," he murmured.

"You're certainly not fine. A man had you against a wall after knocking the breath out of you. You look rattled. Was that the point?"

John furrowed his brow and looked back to those intense gray eyes. "Why would he want to rattle me?"

"Because you're associating with me. Bugger, they must know I'm here. He must be a part of all this. But why Moran? He's middle of the pact, nothing special. Why are they using him…"

It was obviously Sherlock was no longer speaking to John, so he went to sit down in his usual chair while Sherlock prattled on about vague people he'd never mentioned the names of.

Sherlock turned his back on John and began pacing. John watched that delicious arse walk away and he bit his lip hard. Jesus, he had to get it together. The late night drunken attempted booty calls were bad enough but now his sober mind was getting all kinds of twisted up in Sherlock Holmes.

"John, please tell me you aren't staring at my behind," Sherlock's voice came from across the room, his back still turned.

John flushed to the tips of his ears and stared into his lap. "What? No, I…no, I wouldn't-"

"Oh for godsake," Sherlock barked as he whirled around. "Have you heard anything new?"

John glanced up at him. "No, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Oh really? So that little show with Moran wasn't out of the ordinary?"

John's face got impossibly hotter. "He's just mad because he thinks you're favoring me."

Sherlock huffed. "Look deeper, John. There is more to it then that."

"I really don't think there is," John protested. "He's just bitter because a lower rank then him is getting special attention from a Major."

Sherlock's lips twitched. "Special attention?"

John tried to glare, but he didn't want to lose all sight of that pretty face. "Well, with the special meetings and all-"

"You're distracted," Sherlock interrupted.

"No, no, I'm-"

"You're distracted and that's why you haven't been getting any information for me. What could possibly be distracting you from simply picking up on your surroundings?"

You, you bloody bastard.

"Nothing, I'm-"

"Oh. Oh, of course," Sherlock paced again. "The drunken late-night drop-ins and all the things you say when you arrive. You need to get laid. Badly."

Was John's face just destined to be crimson for this entire conversation? "What! No, I'm-"

"And you're rather keen on me, aren't you? You like my looks, that much is clear, and we get along just fine. Well, that's settled. We need to clear your mind."

John couldn't look up. "I don't need anything. I'm fine."

"No, you're obviously not. Tonight, meet me at my barracks. We'll take care of your little problem and you'll be back to observing in no time."

The somersaults had begun tumbling around in John's belly as he tried desperately not to hope for what he thought Sherlock meant. Surely, the Major had something in mind that wasn't sex?

"Oh, yes, this will be perfect. We're going to get that stress out of you and get you back to doing the job I need from you."

John finally glanced up, mouth agape, really trying to understand what this man was saying. He must be misunderstanding. Or something. Right? No way he was saying…

"Yes, John, we're going to have sex. We're going to make all your distracting fantasies come true and get that mind back to where it belongs: on the plan."

****I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it.****


	5. Chapter 5

****I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it. Warnings: sexual activity.****

Even as he pulled open the door, he knew he was making a mistake.

"Ah, John, right on time," Sherlock grinned happily as John slipped into his room.

"Yeah, hi," John replied distractedly. He ran a hand down his face. What the fuck was he doing here?

Sherlock was watching him. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Shall we disrobe?"

Oh fuck. Sherlock really was planning on this happening. "Uh, we should maybe, I dunno, talk or something?"

Sherlock took a determined step forward. "Why?"

John shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know if this is a good idea."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John," he said softly. "I know this is what you want. I know I can give you exactly what you're looking for and I am actually quite good at this." He took another step forward and John stopped breathing.

"B-but we're…colleagues? Friends? I don't even know but it'll ruin what we…have," John finished lamely. What did they have exactly? A sketchy deal at best with a dash of weird connection on the side? This was royally fucked up already.

"John," Sherlock murmured. "You need to have an orgasm and release all that tension. I need you to focus and get me the information I need. This will be mutually beneficial."

Sherlock had gotten rather close. John gulped. "I don't…I-"

"You've informed me twice in a drunken stupor that you would very much like to sleep with me. In some rather colorful ways. Were you lying?"

"I-"

"You said you were, and I quote 'very good' and would 'make it so good' for me. Was that all just bullocks?"

He knew he was baiting him, but dammit all to hell, it was working. "No, it wasn't bullocks."

Sherlock raised a challenging eyebrow. "You told me on two separate occasions in several different ways that you find me attractive, did you not?"

"I-"

"Do you or do you not find me attractive?"

"Of course I find you attractive."

"So what's the problem?"

"You're a Major," John said exasperatedly. "You are a superior officer and I am merely a cadet. There is a whole mess of problems with this."

Sherlock cocked his head in thought. "So moral," he murmured, reaching a hand out and running the backs of his knuckles over John's cheek. "It would be endearing if it weren't getting in the way of both of us bringing each other off. But no matter. If you're not interested, I won't force you." He dropped his hand and moved to step back.

Oh god, he _was_ interested, and he_ knew_ Sherlock was playing a dirty game and he just really,_ really_ didn't care. He wanted those lips on his body. In whatever way Sherlock would agree to.

John caught his wrist and pulled, allowing Sherlock's weight to land on him and propel him back against the door, pressing flush against his body. They both let out small groans.

"Change your mind, John?" Sherlock murmured, breath whispering over John's lips.

"Obviously," John replied, rocking forward on his toes to reach Sherlock's lips.

The Major smirked.

Then dropped to his knees.

John gasped as Sherlock expertly unhooked his fatigues and yanked, bringing his pants down as well. John's erection sprang free and Sherlock grasped it. He pulled a condom from his pocket, tore it open with one hand and slid it over John with practiced ease.

Then Sherlock wrapped his gorgeous lips around John's cock.

"_Jesus_ buggering _fuck_," John cried, slamming his head back against the door.

Sherlock hummed in appreciation and John, quite literally, saw stars. He buried his hands in dark curls, holding on for dear life. "Fuck yes. Jesus fucking Christ yes."

"You have a filthy mouth, Doctor Watson," Sherlock pulled off long enough to say, then swallowed John back down, bobbing his head diligently.

"You have-oh _fuck_-perfect cock-sucking lips, Sherlock," John managed to bite back, though the words held less venom and more pleasure. Christ, Sherlock was right. He did need this. And Sherlock was fucking _excellent_ at this.

Sherlock stroked a long pull up John's length with his hand, licking at the slit. "I'm glad you appreciate them."

"Yeah, I-fuck yeah I do." John was struggling for coherence as Sherlock flicked his tongue against the underside of his cock. "Oh yes, like that. Fuck, so good for me, Sher-"

His words cut off abruptly as the head of his erection hit the back of Sherlock's throat. John's eyes rolled back in his head as he groaned deeply. He pumped his hips in shallow thrusts, reveling in the wet sounds it created in the small room. "Sher-Sherlock, mm, yes."

Without warning, a slick finger slid over his perineum and breached his body, sliding in with ease and curling to brush delicately against his prostate. Sherlock swallowed once, twice, and then John was coming, all but wrenching Sherlock's hair off his head as he clenched his fists. He shuddered through his climax, hips stuttering again and again.

"Mm, I do love being right," Sherlock said hoarsely as he pulled back and gently tugged the condom free, tying it off and tossing it in the bin.

"Shut…up…" John panted, still trying to regain full-consciousness.

He heard a deep chuckle and John shivered, finally regaining his focus. He opened his eyes to find Sherlock smirking at him from where he sat at his desk chair. "Well?"

John frowned. "Well what?"

"Think, John. Have you seen anything out of the ordinary lately?"

"Well, you just sucked me off in your barracks, that's out of the ordinary, isn't it? By the way, do you want me to…" he waived his hand toward Sherlock's hips.

Sherlock stared at him quizzically for a moment then rolled his eyes. "Oh no, I'm not the one who needs to focus. You are. I've assisted you. Now you need to do your part. Use your brain, John. I know you can."

Really? Sherlock didn't want to get off? This was all just for John? That really didn't seem fair. Although… Christ that was an excellent blowjob. Better then he'd imagined it would be with Sherlock. And he had imagined, daydreaming constantly. In the shower. In bed. While crawling in a mud pit. While sitting in class. While waiting for Anderson to stop screaming in his face… while.-Oh.

"What?" Sherlock said urgently, leaning forward. "You remembered something. What is it?"

"Anderson…" John started, trying to remember what he said. "He…he said…"

"What?" Sherlock said urgently, standing up. "Come on, John."

"He was yelling at me while I was doing press-ups and said- he said 'your meetings won't change anything.' I didn't think anything of it at the time. He squished it into a bunch of other things he was yelling, but now…"

"When?" Sherlock demanded. "When did he say that?"

"Umm…two days ago."

"Mm," Sherlock said evenly, though his body was practically vibrating. "So they know then."

"Who knows?"

Sherlock's eyes swept the floor, he turned, then jumped into the air and cheered. "Yes! Oh, god it's like bloody Christmas! They know. Of course they know. Excellent. And Anderson? That man is a complete imbecile but if he's involved… oh the net must be vast. Must be intricate…delicate…pull one thread and…"

"_Sherlock_," John said sharply, attempting not to be alarmed at Sherlock's excitement. "What are you talking about?"

Sherlock glanced up as though he'd forgotten he was there, wrinkling his forehead. "Oh. You can go, John. But keep up the excellent work. Come back here again tomorrow night, alright? We need to keep you focused."

Keep him focused? As in…continue this…odd arrangement? That now included fantastic blowjobs?

Before he could ask, John was being pushed out the door.

He walked back to his own room in an unsettling, confused daze.

****I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it. Thank you guys for the love on this story! It's a nice little sidepiece I like to come back to every now and then, and I love that there are people out there enjoying it as much as I am writing it. Cheers!****


	6. Chapter 6

****I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it.****

"I'm baaaaaaack," John called as he pushed open Sherlock's office door.

"Jesus, John!" Sherlock barked. "What the hell are you doing here? How did you even know I was in here?"

John grinned in triumph. "Well you weren't at your little... uh, your um..."

"Barracks?" Sherlock supplied.

"Yes!" John cheered, snapping his fingers and pointing at Sherlock. "Clever you. So clever. So very very clever. And sexy. So very very-"

"Christ, John," Sherlock cut him off. "How often is this going to happen?"

John sauntered into his office, flicking the door shut with his foot. Very smooth. "How often will what happen, baby?"

"No," Sherlock shook his head vigorously. "No nicknames. I've let this go on long enough as it is."

"Mm, on the contrary Mister Pretty Eyes," John made his way over to the Major, dipping his hips in a sultry swagger. He was getting excellent at seducing Sherlock. "I don't think this has gone on long enough at all."

"Smooth," Sherlock grumbled and John grinned.

"Thank you Major Holmes," he said batting his eyelashes. He saddled up to his Major and plopped down on his lap. "Hi," he whispered, knowing for sure that that was very sexual sounding, and slid his fingers into Sherlock's hair.

"John," Sherlock warned, but John didn't loosen his grip.

"I wanna return the favor," he whispered, pressing his lips to Sherlock's ear. He was certain Sherlock would like that.

"No," Sherlock said firmly. "Not necessary."

John pulled a pouty lip. "Come on! I'm suuuper good at it, I swear."

"It's not for pleasure, John, it's for focus."

"And you need to focus," John crooned. All he wanted was to suck Sherlock's cock. Was that so bloody much to ask? Why did Sherlock make this so difficult for him?

"No. I'm plenty focused on the case."

"Fine," John replied, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck. "If you won't focus on me sucking you, why don't you focus on fucking me?"

That's really what John wanted anyway.

"John, I think we should make one thing very clear," Sherlock all but growled, putting a hand on John's knee. "I will never do anything sexual with you while you are drunk." He ignored John's groan. "Now. Do you have any new information?"

John nuzzled his nose into Sherlock's hair. "Pleeeeaaassse?"

"No."

John harrumphed, actually harrumphed, and stuck his tongue in Sherlock's ear. "Doesn't that feel good, baby?"

"We talked about nicknames, John."

Mm, was it John's imagination or was Sherlock's words coming out a bit...breathless?

Oh yes, he was definitely having an impact. He swirled his tongue. "Tell me how it feels," he murmured.

"It feels like you're slobbering all over the side of my head," Sherlock said, and then John was being shoved onto his feet, barely keeping himself from toppling over.

"Hey!" he cried indignantly. "I'm just trying to show you how good I can make you feel." He tugged his shirt down and tried to step closer.

Sherlock's arm shot out and a hand was placed firmly on John's chest. "John. Do you know how difficult you make things?"

John grinned. "You mean how _hard_ I make things?"

"Clever," Sherlock rolled his eyes, but his hand stayed firm.

John's body was starting to wilt, the haze over his eyes thickening.

"You're tired," Sherlock murmured. "Go get some sleep."

"But I wanna sleep with you," John hung his heavy head. "I like being with you."

"Christ, John," Sherlock murmured. "How many times can one man hit on another?"

"It's your fault you sucked my cock," John tried to say indignantly. "Now I want you all the time."

Sherlock snorted. "You're right, sorry about that."

John was awake enough to snap his head up. "What? Don't be sorry! It was bloody incredible! All I want is to return the favor!"

Sherlock chuckled. "I know. But you can't John. It would... cross a line."

John giggled. "But I like crossing lines with you."

"I know," Sherlock replied grimly.

"How about you get drunk and show up at my barracks next time and then you won't feel so guilty?" John was excellent with plans.

Sherlock snorted. "Absolutely not."

"Why?" John whined. "Then we'll be even. I have no problem taking advantage of a drunk, sexy, delicious Major Holmes."

"Good god, how many different ways can you call me sexy?"

"Mm, lemme think," John slurred, "hot, pretty, gorg-"

"I was kidding," Sherlock said with a wave of his hand, "just go shut down your brain and get some rest."

"When are you going to sleep with me?" John asked. "Soon? I'll do better with waiting if you give me a deadline."

"John-"

"Wait, wait," John shook his head. He really was tired and he was starting to think he couldn't do much tonight in way of seducing his Sherlock, anyway. He could wait. "Don't say no again, okay? Just...just give me a kiss and I will go to bed, I swear."

"John-"

"Please?" John said sleepily. "Just a quick little smooch and then I'll be out of your hair and off to my dreams where you are very very naked."

Sherlock huffed a laugh. "Fine," Sherlock said. "One kiss."

John immediately puckered his lips and closed his eyes for his first kiss with Sherlock. Even tired, his body still thrummed excitedly. He'd been imagining what those pretty, pouty, pillowy lips would feel like for so long.

He was also excellent at alliteration while inebriated.

There was a soft pressure on his cheek and then Sherlock's hand was gone from his chest. John waited for a moment longer, frowning when nothing happened.

John's eyes fluttered open. "What-"

"You promised," Sherlock warned. "One kiss and you would go to bed."

John gaped. "Not on the cheek! On the lips!"

Sherlock shrugged. "You didn't specify."

"Sherlock-"

"Goodnight John," Sherlock said pushing him gently toward the door.

"Sherlock!" John tried again but his sleepy body was not cooperating in pushing back against his Major.

"Goodnight John," Sherlock murmured again and gave him a shove out the door.

****I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it.****


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